


With Compassion

by DiscipleOfDave (Martin_Weir)



Series: Through Thedas... [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Happy Ending, Fade Dreams, Fade Shenanigans, Fade Spirits, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Modern Boy in Thedas, Modern Character in Thedas, Not Beta Read, One Big Happy Family, Slow Build, Slow To Update, Strangers to Enemies to Friends to Family, Swearing, Teen Angst, The Fade, Warrior Hawke (Dragon Age), Weird Fade Stuff, aswell, kind of, my character starts out super young, sort of a
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27797806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martin_Weir/pseuds/DiscipleOfDave
Summary: A young boy of barely 12 years is flung into the world of Thedas. With nobody to count on in Kirkwall, but himself, he takes the first opportunity at stability. But will this really bring order into his life or will he end up in even more chaos, than before?Also why does he keep seeing strange things in his dreams?
Relationships: Male Hawke (Dragon Age) & Original Character(s), Male Hawke (Dragon Age) & Original Male Character(s)
Series: Through Thedas... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033749
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	With Compassion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Antiquarian's Archivist](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255317) by [ashembie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashembie/pseuds/ashembie). 



> This is inspired by ashembie's second chapter. But with my own spin on stuff, cause in this case Xenon didn't really bring him to the Emporium, the protagonist was guided there by his "instincts". This will also be more humorous. I can't help it - I love dumb jokes!  
> This is written by myself with no outside input, but if you have ideas, then please feel free to tell me in the comments. Same goes for criticism and corrections on anything.

Waves crashing, the sounds of sea birds, the low creaking of wooden planks. Then there was a harsh shove to his side.  
“Hey, what are you doing here? Wake up, you guttersnipe!”  
Another rough shove and the boy's eyes flew open and he sat up.  
“W-what?”  
“I said get up! Before I kick you into the water!”  
Somehow those words terrified the boy enough to make him rise abruptly to his feed and hastily take a few steps back from the owner of the voice.  
His heart was pounding in his chest as he shifted his gaze from the seemingly historic harbour around him to the man who stood in front of him. He looked like some sort of medieval sailor with his head band and the high boots.  
“What are you standing there for? Fuck off or I'll beat you into a bloody pulp!”  
The boy's eyes widened at the man's words and he turned on his heel, running away as his brain caught up with his situation.  
He woke up all alone in a strange place - full of historical reenactors? - with nowhere to go and not even a single familiar face. Had he not been so confused by it all, he would have guessed this to be some sort of kidnapping. But his instincts told him, that it wasn't and that he couldn't wait for his parents to come find him. Maybe the people in the harbour weren't kidnappers, but that didn't mean, that they weren't dangerous - as proven by the man who woke him.  
He had left the harbour behind, in front of him was only one way that led into, what he could only assume to be a citadel or maybe a fortress city of some kind. A big market place sprawled out before the gates into the monumental city and he saw a large crowd standing - maybe waiting - in front of them. He honestly couldn't tell, while he was running.  
Then he saw the armoured guards with their sharp swords and big shields, obviously blocking passage into the city and he stopped in an attempt to catch his breath. He hadn't run that far, so why was he breathing so hard. Had he been more scared than initially thought? But the shock and panic of the situation wasn't the only thing that had him hyperventilating.  
His head was swimming and he felt like someone had cut the strings keeping him up and moving.  
He couldn't breath, his lungs were too small. There was a heavy weight on his chest – it made breathing impossible. Black spots danced in his vision.  
But then: a gentle hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. And he lashed out, slapping the offending limb away from himself.  
In a moments notice he had bounded a good ten feet away, before his stomach revolted and he keeled over. His hands pressed hard into his thighs as he dry-heaved.  
“Are you alright?”, a concerned, female voice asked. She sounded young and friendly, he absentmindedly noted.  
“'m fine”, he managed to bite out through his teeth.  
_Calm down! Breath in, hold it, breath out.  
_His fathers gentle words sounded in his head and he followed the instructions, until he could no longer hear his heartbeat in his ears.  
At last the boy lifted his head and looked up, only to see the young woman still standing there, despite the amount of time it took him to calm down. When she saw the clear look in his eyes, she started to approach him again.  
“Are you better now? Where is your family?” Her eyes held the unmistakable look of concern, that only the sister of a particularly stupid sibling could master to this degree, as she crouched down to his eye level.  
“Again, I'm fine. But thank you”, the boy grouched out as he averted his eyes.  
Before she could comment on his disheveled state, he got to his feet and wiped at his face, scrubbing away the remnants of spit and tears left there by the panic-attack.  
“I better get going.” And with that he walked away from her.  
He didn't actually know where to go, but his instincts told him to go into the city and his instincts were never wrong.  
So he approached the gate. The guards didn't let anyone in, he could see that much. Maybe he could sneak in behind their backs... It was worth a try. But he needed a distraction first.  
And he didn't have to wait long, before his distraction came in the form of the mounting restlessness of the other people waiting. They started to shout at the guards, who in turn drew closer to the crowd before the gate.  
This was his moment! The boy sent a quick look at the people and prayed nobody saw him, before he made his way behind the armoured men and through the city gate. He broke out into a sprint as soon as he had passed the threshold and ducked into the first alley he saw.  
Having successfully overcome the first hurdle, he allowed himself to take this moment to relax and calm his mind. But that was short-lived, when he heard heavy, metallic-sounding footsteps come his way. Had the guards seen him? He didn't actually want to stay and find out though.  
So he ran further into the network of alleys that sprawled across the city – only guided by his instincts.  
Now if he only knew where his instincts were leading him...  
  


He couldn't feel his feet anymore. After hours of walking through this labyrinth of a city, he was surprised, that it wasn't more. But he had to take his victories, where he could find them, right. And despite the shadows growing longer and the wind becoming harsher, he wasn't cold yet. Probably a testament to his warm clothes. A woolen shirt, some long pants and leather boots, as well as a big, dark red scarf, that he had wrapped around himself like the world's most misshapen cloak.  
He didn't look where he was going – at this point simply couldn't care anymore – when a jolt of something went trough his body and he ducked out of the way instinctively. Just barely on time, as barely a second later a club came swinging at the place where his head had been not a moment ago.  
Before his attacker could register his dodge, he bolted away into a random alley and began zigzagging from alley to alley. But he could still hear the heavy footsteps of his pursuer, so he pushed his legs to their limits and turned a sharp corner. Now finding himself in an alley, that ended at a ledge.  
But he could see the rooftop of a house. There, on one of the lower levels of the city! Hopefully it wasn't too far away – it simply **couldn't**!  
The boy didn't break his sprint – somehow even upped the speed – running full-tilt towards the edge. His last step landed perfectly and he pushed himself off with all his might.  
Then he was free-falling.  
The rooftop was approaching rapidly, yet in slow-motion. The wind was rushing in his ears and his arms were flailing wildly. The other ledge was drawing near and he realized something, that made his stomach sink.  
He wouldn't stick the landing. So he did what he could in this moment of high adrenaline and next to no control.  
He wrenched his eyes wide open, that had instinctively shut, brought his arms in front of his body and braced himself for the collision. His muscles tightened and then he made contact.  
It felt like a sucker-punch to the gut, as he hit the edge with his torso. The air was forced out of his lungs and his arms shot forwards, desperately grappling for any sort of purchase. _There!  
_When he found a moments worth of time in an unevenness in the roof, he forced his arms to lift his body and swung a leg onto the roof. That was all he needed and soon he was lying on the roof, clutching his gut with cramping arms and wrists that were jarred from the impact.  
It hurt so damn much!  
Yet he forced himself to sit up and look up towards the ledge. It was further up and away, than it had initially seemed. And there at the edge stood the thug, that had chased him. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, so the boy guessed he wouldn't be chasing him anytime soon. A small flicker of hope in his current state of pain.  
He breathed a sigh of relief and stood up. Forcing his legs to work was by far harder than he'd like to admit, but nonetheless. He couldn't stay on the roof.  
The boy wrapped his scarf tighter around himself and walked towards the opposite side. What he found there filled his heart with joy and his legs almost gave out under him at the sight. A convenient pile of crates!  
_I thought those only existed in movies and video games!  
_But gift horse and all of that, so he simply used them to climb down into the alley next to the house.  
He let his eyes wonder and found them drawn to an inconspicuous abandoned house. And never one to ignore his curiosity, he approached the dilapidated building.  
It's front door was hanging off of one hinge and he could see, that some of the windows were missing their glass. Yet that didn't deter him from pulling the heavy door open. Strangely enough it didn't make any kind of sound. Not even the grinding of wood against stone, as he swung it open.  
The boy stepped inside and immediately the door swung closed behind him. But he didn't care - honestly couldn't care in the moment, even if he had tried. He felt some sort of pull towards a back room. Upon entering, his eyes immediately fell onto a trap door, half-covered by a rug. Opening it, he was greeted not with a ladder, but with actual stairs, that led underground into a dark and dusty tunnel, full of stale air.  
His mind felt hazy, almost dreamlike, as he began to descend the steps into darkness. He felt warm and cozy, simultaneously nauseous and stiff.  
He couldn't remember how long he had walked and which turns he had taken, but somehow he ended up another door. This one no better than the last one, but he felt like his destination was behind these planks. So he gripped the handle and pulled.

  
When he heard the quiet footsteps approach, Xenon had only thought it to be the urchin, for as long as it took him to actually sense the other's presence. It felt like a ripple in the fade coming from the unknown visitor.  
“Who are you?” His raspy voice seemed to wake the boy from his apparent trance, the small form flinching at the question. As the child's wary gaze landed on his decrepit form, he felt the slight tingle of a curious energy prodding at his own bit of magic.  
The boy was different. Xenon could see that even without his barely functioning eyes. He saw it in the way the fade was pulled taut around the boy's figure – as if reluctant to let him leave it's embrace for the daytime. Almost like a hovering parent, he noted amused. It was holding onto the boy's very being like it never wanted to let him go.  
But this was still a surprise. As far as he could tell the boy was not a mage, yet he was sure that the curious thing he just sensed, came from the child in front of him. Maybe it hadn't actually been the boy, but the fade?  
“If you do not seek employment, I would suggest that you leave, before I let the urchin feed you to the Monster under the floorboards.” The boy flinched and the fade curled tighter around him. _Intersting..._  
“W-wha- Who are **you**?”, came a baffled question instead of an answer. _So the boy hadn't ended up here on purpose?_  
Xenon could only speculate on the reason, why this human child was so incredibly special, that the fade actively clung to it's body like a petulant toddler. It honestly baffled him to no end. And it sparked his interest in the child.  
“I am Xenon the Antiquarian. And as of late, I'm in rather dire need of an archivist.”  
The boy tilted his head as he seemed to consider his words. As he thought, he began to mumble.  
“I do need a job now, don't I? Can't stay a “guttersnipe” forever...” Then he spoke up.  
“Then I would like to apply for the position as your archivist.”  
To be the owner – or he guessed “employer”? – of such a rarity, was an idea his hoarder heart couldn't let go. Such an opportunity would not present itself to him like this ever again – that much was clear. He had to act fast, before someone else discovered this specimen and simply took it.  
“Good”, his voice reverberated off of the walls. “What are your conditions?”  
He may be an ancient collector of rarities, but that didn't mean he wouldn't give employees days off and a decent payment. As long as they remembered to think of it for their initial contract. Why waste resources on someone who clearly didn't have a mind worth his efforts anyways.  
“Oh”, the boy seemed surprised. He clearly hadn't thought, Xenon would give him options on this contract. “Well. Then... I want to be an actual employee – not a slave. That means, that I get an actual schedule – you can't just call me in whenever you want. I also want to have at least two days a week off, I want to earn enough money to not be dependent on you to always take care of me.”  
Xenon almost thought the child was already done, when he didn't continue, but then,”And I want to be able to quit! **And** for this contract to be renewed every five years to accommodate my needs.”  
The boy knew what he was doing, Xenon had to give him that.  
“That is quite the extensive list, but I'm sure we can work something out”, he croaked, already thinking of ways to keep the boy in his employment.  
“When you said, enough payment to not be dependent on me, you meant...?”  
“Enough to afford a separate home from this place – not necessarily an entire house but enough for more than just one room – and to buy food and clothing as I need it.”  
“Very well, then. You would have work days when new artifacts arrive, your work days would begin when the chantry's bell tower strikes... Let say eight in the morning and ends when the bell tower strikes... Hmm... Ah! When it strikes six in the evening.” _Rather early, but we don't want you to get stolen, while you're wandering through dark streets, do we?  
_“You will pick up and archive my orders – hopefully better, than that damned urchin. Doesn't seem to have enough intellect to handle the artifacts properly. And I expect you to be discreet and not to bring trouble into these halls. Otherwise I will feed you to the monster, **regardless** of your reasons.” He wasn't really going to do that – the boy was too precious a specimen to simply kill him – but the child didn't need to know that.  
“Should we have come to an agreement on these conditions, I will have it put to paper.”  
“With the clause, that I can quit and that the contract will be renewed every five years!”  
“Obviously.”  
The boy really was a smart one, he had to give him that. While he had been rather uneloquent, he had still clearly established his ways out and means of living on his own. For someone of his age he was a prodigy, when it came to weaving words. And Xenon was sure the child would only get better at it as time would pass.  
“Very well then. Urchin! Bring us paper and quill!”  
  


The urchin had drawn up the contract and already put Xenon's signature on it, when the piece of paper was handed to him. He let his hazel eyes roam the text, to make sure it was sufficient. When he couldn't find any immediate pitfalls or double-meanings, he took the quill from the urchin.  
His hand slightly shaking, he put down his own signature.  
"Then it is settled," Xenon proclaimed, his raspy voice reverberating in the room. "You shall serve as my archivist and assistant until our contract is renewed."  
Wow, that went by far better, than he expected.  
“Alright. I'm glad the negotiations ended on such pleasant terms”, he replied. He was about to end the conversation, completely exhausted - both mentally and physically - when he remembered something important.  
“Oh, I almost forgot, Mr Xenon! My name is Kit.”


End file.
